


Breathe You In

by a spot of elle grey (minniemoments)



Series: Baekchen Drabbles [5]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Can be read as gen, Drabble, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-13 00:02:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20164816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minniemoments/pseuds/a%20spot%20of%20elle%20grey
Summary: About 500 words of trying to deal with the announcement of Super M.





	Breathe You In

**Author's Note:**

> unbeta'd

“Baek?” Jongdae calls out, voice filled with concern.

He can  _ hear _ the way his eyebrows are scrunched. He doesn’t want to worry anyone. It’s why he stuffed himself in his room, buried himself under blankets, and shoved a pillow between his face and the mattress.

He needs to respond, but… If he talks right now, then he’ll be bared and found out. His state is only a secret for a few more minutes whether his voice finds him or not, but still. He wants those minutes. Wants the ambiguity that maybe he’s just napping. Wants to maintain the comfort that only Jongdae has to know.

“I’m coming in,” Jongdae says after that stretch of silence. The knob turns and the door clicks open, then closed just as quick. A sliver of light appearing and disappearing like a phantom.

He’s not sure if he regrets failing to lock the door. If he wanted Jongdae to come all along and just didn’t know how to ask. Or if he, in the haphazard way he locked himself up, just forgot to lock it.

The lamp near his bedside clicks on and the soft light pricks at his eyes, seeping in between the cracks of his pillow and face. The bed makes an exasperated sound, no longer impressed at his display and ushering Jongdae to sit gingerly on its side.

“Do you want to talk?” Jongdae half-asks, half-whispers, hand resting on his shoulder, thumb idly moving.

He opens his mouth to reply and rather than words, he winds up taking a gasping breath that breaks and cracks. The thumb that had been making a figure 8 stills and he feels chilled. He doesn’t want to burden Jongdae with this. Doesn’t want him to see his state.  _ Why didn’t I lock the door? _

“It’s okay, Baek,” Jongdae murmurs, thumb resuming its pattern, “If you want to be alone, I can go.”

_ No, no, no, please don’t. _ He doesn’t want to be alone right now. Even if he needs to shake the cobwebs off his voice.

“Stay,” he manages, the word rough and misshapen.

He swallows and takes a breath, then turns over, wincing in the light. Jongdae’s eyes go wide with a flurry of emotions and he must look terrible - face and eyes red with pillowcase marks printing oddly on skin, lips chapped, faint streaks hinting at tears.

“Come here,” Jongdae says, gathering him in his arms like he’s a rag doll, which is how his body feels - heavy and weightless.

He breathes easier in the embrace and another sob pries its way out of his throat because he’s been in his room for what feels like hours, has been keeping his face together for weeks in the wake of Super M, has been comforting Jongin for just as long, but here, wrapped tight in Jongdae’s arms, overwhelmed in the best way by his scent - his body wash, deodorant, and light layer of sweat - he’s safe, he’s okay.


End file.
